


Everything you say

by DaddyUncool



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Wrong Number AU, long distance, probs gonna have smut somewhere ngl, some nobodies die dw about it it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-09 04:38:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16443092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaddyUncool/pseuds/DaddyUncool
Summary: Nicole keeps getting calls from an unknown number. She keeps ignoring it, but when this caller wakes her up at 6:30 on a Sunday morning, she finally answers.Waverly’s traveling Europe with her best friend. When she mistakenly calls a stranger instead of Wynonna, she gets chatting with the girl, and the next day she decides to call back again. And again. And again. And again.Over a series of phone calls, they get to know each other, and eventually Waverly plans to meet her mystery lady. But before she can leave England, she comes into danger. She’s kidnapped and held for ransom. The kidnappers call the last number on her phone.Nicole thinks about handing it to the authorities, but instead, she buys a flight to England.





	1. Wrong Number

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything like this before, I usually stick to fluff and smut oneshots lolll but this got stuck in my head. If this sucks don't tell me because I'm sensitive.

****  
**Wrong Number**

 

At 6.30AM on a warm Sunday morning, Nicole Haught is torn from her slumber and thrown violently into the real world. 

 

She sits bolt upright, instinctively grabbing at her hip for her weapon even though she’s in her PJs. When she only feels the soft fabric of her bed shorts under her fingertips, she realises where she is and starts to relax a little. She looks around, squinting. The world, although hazy and softly lit, is still too bright at this particular moment. Finally, her dark, sleepy eyes fall on her phone. 

 

Unknown number. 

 

Do you know how rare it is to get a weekend off when you work in what is possibly the world’s smallest police station? Nicole has been waiting more than four months for an entire weekend off. She had made plans, and part of those plans were to sleep in on a Sunday morning for the first time in forever.

 

But the little rectangle of light jingles away relentlessly beside her, shouting that an unknown person is calling her. At 6.30AM. On a  _ Sunday _ . It had been the same yesterday, too, and all of Friday night too, whilst she was still working.

 

At first she chalked it up to telemarketers or something. Then, as it got later and later on Friday, she thought maybe it was pranksters. Kids of Purgatory sure didn’t like it when she stopped them from breaking into their own high school. But on this particular morning, it’s just gone too far. 

 

She grabs at the phone and answers it with a tight jaw, intent on demanding to know who is harassing her. 

 

“Who is this?” 

 

“Oh!” There’s a pause. “Nonna?” Nicole’s brow dips low. She had been woken up for a wrong number? She had been harassed for days because of a  _ wrong number?  _ Her perfect snoozy Sunday morning interrupted for a  _ wrong number! _

 

“I think you have the wrong number.” she grinds out, and she almost hangs up right then and there. But on the other end of the line there’s a small groan, and something makes her hesitate. 

 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. And I must have woken you up so early! On- oh my god. On a  _ Sunday _ , of all days!” the stranger’s voice rambles on, all bright and kind, and despite herself, Nicole starts to relax. She stretches her neck, feeling it pop. It had done that ever since she was taken down at the Academy whilst training. She takes a little breath before she answers, suddenly not feeling quite so cranky. 

 

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

 

“Were you asleep?” the stranger presses on and Nicole rubs at her eyes. Calamity Jane, her bright orange fuzzball, jumps up onto the bed and starts purring obnoxiously, the way she does most mornings. It’s an attention seeking thing. Nicole lets her fingers sink into the mass of orange fluff, giving the moody cat the attention she seeks.

 

“No, don’t worry.” she lies and the stranger knows straight away.

 

“You so were, you sound all… sleepy!” 

 

It makes Nicole chuckle. She adjusts the phone slightly, a smile lingering at the corner of her lips. “Okay, yeah, I was. I didn’t want you to feel bad.” 

 

“Well now I feel even worse! I could have woken up anyone in the world and I woke up a complete sweetie-pie!” 

 

Nicole bites her lip, listening to this stranger. She thinks she should probably end the conversation, but a little voice tells her that this isn’t the worst way to wake up. Not the worst voice to hear first thing. It’s certainly not bad to be called sweetie-pie as soon as you open your eyes, is it?

 

“What are you doing calling someone at this time anyway?” she says instead of saying goodbye.

 

“Oh, well, I’m in Paris, it’s the middle of the day here!” 

 

Nicole thinks this over. She lays back in bed, one hand petting Calamity Jane, the other cradling the phone to her ear. Her eyes settle on the ceiling as she imagines this stranger with her happy voice, sitting somewhere in France, a million miles away. She sounds pretty. She has a pretty voice. 

 

“Are you French?” 

 

“No, Canadian. Can’t you tell?” Nicole hums in response. She could have guessed. “So I must have been calling you for days and days, right?”

 

“You have.”

 

“You never picked up.”

 

“I thought you were telemarketers.”

 

“I’m really sorry. What’s your name?”

 

Nicole bites her lip again. She’s not sure why, but all of a sudden she feels nervous. “Nicole,” 

 

“Well, Nicole, I hope I didn’t completely ruin your morning. Hopefully I won’t bother you again!” she chuckles at herself a little bit, and Nicole finds her heart leaping into her throat at the sound, all bright and sunshiney. 

 

“Yeah, no, it’s- it’s not problems.” she babbles like an utter lunatic, then she immediately scrunches her face up. Ugh. “I mean, it’s no problem.” The stranger giggles quietly at Nicole’s fumble and lingers for a moment longer, like she has more to say. 

 

“See you later, Nicole.” 

 

“Bye,” she utters dumbly, but only a second later she realises that she doesn’t know the girl’s name. “Wait! I didn’t catch-” but the line goes dead. 

 

Nicole sighs. It doesn’t matter, really. Why does she need to know the name of some stranger in Paris who accidentally called her a few times? She puts her phone back down and decides to forget all about it; just put on some coffee and go about her day. 

 

When she cracks her eggs later on, the bright yellow yolk reminds her of the girl’s laugh.

 

*******

 

When Waverly puts the phone down that morning, she holds it to her chest for a moment, like she had with the first love letter Champ Hardy had given her when she was only 14. 

 

Chrissy walks into the hotel room drying her hair, but when she catches sight of Waverly she stops dead.

 

“Who’s got you all googly eyed? Champ send you another dick pic?” Chrissy fakes a gag around a smirk and Waverly rolls her eyes and scoffs. They’ve been friends forever, and there are no airs and graces between them anymore. 

 

“No, shut up. I just called the wrong number.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah.” she shrugs as nonchalantly as she can. “Some girl answered.”

 

“ _ Oh? _ ”

 

“Would you stop!”

 

“You got the hots for some wrong number?”

 

“No!”

 

“What’s her name?”

 

“N- It’s Nicole.” Waverly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear sheepishly, feeling caught out. Chrissy narrows her eyes knowingly, her lips twisting into a smirk. She’s known Waverly forever. She knows this look, and every other look.

 

“You’ve got a phone girlfriend.” she taunts with finality. Waverly’s cheeks grow warm at the mere suggestion. “My dad says Champ’s still hung up on you, by the way.” 

 

“Ugh.” The thing about  _ that _ is, Champ had cheated. He hadn’t cheated once, he hadn’t even cheated twice. He had cheated so much that he had lost count of how many times he had cheated. And that, well it was just too much for Waverly. At some point she had to have some self respect! They broke up, and he really didn’t seem all that bothered. Not at first, anyway. But a few months later, when she told him that she would be travelling Europe with Chrissy, he absolutely lost it, to her complete bewilderment. He went into meltdown. He begged her to stay, even to marry him. But Waverly was beyond done. 

 

In the first few weeks of their trip, he called and texted all the time. After a month he stopped for a bit, and Waverly thought it was finally over. That was a peaceful month. But by the time they were in Germany he was back at it, sending pictures of his genitals whilst presumably drunk. She promptly blocked his number after that, but Chrissy never let it go. She found it hysterical, and frequently mocked her for even dating such a d-bag in the first palce. 

 

“ Sacré-Cœur today?” Chrissy nods out the window, although they’re about a three or four mile walk away from it. “Apparently there’s a bar on the way up.” They had committed to doing all the sightseeing early on, so they could spend the rest of their time in Paris doing more…  _ Parisian  _ things. 

 

Waverly nods in agreement but she’s not really listening. She’s thinking about Nicole. 

  
  


***

 

It’s a whole day later when Waverly decided to call Wynonna. She hovers her thumb over the number. The  _ wrong  _ number. She knows it’s wrong now. She knows she’s saved this  _ Nicole  _ person’s number as Wynonna’s. And who is she fooling by pretending that she’s calling Wynonna?

 

Nevertheless, she presses down and listens to the ringing sounds with her eyes closed, steadying herself. 

 

“Hello?” 

 

“Nonna?” Waverly bullshits. There’s a pause, then a soft laugh. Waverly imagines a pretty smile accompanying it. A soft smile, probably. Instinctively, her hand reaches up to her necklace, fiddling with it as she listens.

 

“Nope, sorry, it’s me again.” 

 

“O-Oh.” Waverly feigns shock. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. What time is it there?” She already knows it’s midday. She’s planned this, even if she won’t admit it to herself just yet. She looked up the time difference yesterday. She waited for the sun to set over Paris before she picked up her phone to call. She leans over the edge of the balcony now, looking down on the dark Parisian street below, lit only by streetlights and restaurants. People walk arm in arm, romance in the air everywhere here. 

 

“It’s okay, I’m on my lunch break.” Nicole replies, and Waverly bites her lip, picturing her. She can hear a radio in the background, some crackly chatter about traffic and weather, but it’s nothing that Waverly can hear distinctly. She can hear the rustling of something, probably take out wrappers or something.

 

“What are you having?” she asks, and she wonders if Nicole’s surprised that she wants to stay and talk. Nicole is. She looks down at her sad sandwich, pickles already pulled out and put to the side. 

 

“Turkey sub.” 

 

“Coffee?”

 

“Yup.”

 

Waverly smiles, watching a young couple linger by a laundrette, kissing long and slow. She wraps her free arm around herself, mind wandering. She hasn’t been kissed in a long time. 

 

“Turkey sub, coffee… What are you like, some old-school detective sitting in a crappy diner or something?” She’s surprised when she hears Nicole’s muffled laugh, obviously through a mouthful of food. She hears her force it down before she speaks again in an attempt to be polite. 

 

“Am I that predictable?”

 

“You  _ are  _ a detective?” Waverly straightens up, now even more intrigued. 

 

“No. Well- no. I’m just a cop.”

 

“ _ Just  _ a cop. Come on. That’s so cool.”

 

“Hey, what’s your name? I never got to ask last time, and… I dunno.” Nicole lets herself tail off into silence, feeling like she’s maybe overstepped, but Waverly doesn’t notice.

 

“Oh my god, I’m so rude, I can’t believe I keep calling and I didn’t even introduce myself! I’m Waverly.” 

 

“Waverly,” Nicole echoes, feeling the word on her tongue, around her teeth, pressing against her lips. “Beautiful name,” her voice has softened, she realises, and she curses herself for bordering on flirtatious.

 

“Oh, thanks,” Waverly’s voice sounds shy, like she wasn’t expecting the compliment, but Nicole can hear the smile still. 

 

“How’s Paris?” she asks like they’re old friends, not strangers who have spoken on the phone once before. Nicole hears a big sigh on the other end. Once again Waverly looks out at the scene below her.

 

“It’s gorgeous. I’m on the balcony of my hotel right now. It’s dark, but it’s still warm. There’s couples everywhere, and everyone looks so…” without really realising, she exhales a soft, wistful sigh. “So in love.” She watches the people, then she looks at the windows, looks at the sky, looks at the buildings. She looks for anything she can tell Nicole about.

 

“It sounds like a dream.” Nicole’s voice matches Waverly’s, all soft and wistful, and Waverly smiles at the gentle timbre of her voice. Nicole, a whole ocean away, forgets entirely about her lunch, leaving it sitting there in her lap. “What are you doing there? Do you live there?”

 

“No, no, I’m traveling. I’m going all around Europe. I got here last week, and I was in Italy before here, and Germany before that.”

 

“Wow, I am… super jealous,” Nicole chuckles. She tries to imagine it: feeling carefree, no responsibilities, just roaming Paris, eating amazing food, drinking wine, dancing to some song she’s never heard before, with some girl she could fall in love with. Waverly’s voice pulls her back out of the fantasy.

 

“Yeah, it’s great. Paris is so pretty.” She pauses for a beat. “What can you see right now, Nicole?” Waverly closes her eyes against the Parisian scenery with a small smile, just to picture Nicole’s world for a moment. 

 

Nicole goes blank. Waverly’s visiting some of the most stunning countries on the face of the planet and Nicole’s just sitting in her car with a turkey sub going limp on her crotch. She shoves it to the passenger seat and looks around for inspiration.

 

“Well, I’m just in my car…” a thought occurs, then. “Have you ever been in a police car?” her voice is teasing, and Waverly picks up on it straight away. She smirks, eyes still closed.

 

“Maybe. Don’t change the subject.” 

 

“Okay, okay. So I’m in my car. I’m at the edge of town. Sometimes I come out here and it feels like I’m not really working, you know? It sounds silly, but it’s my little escape. There’s not much here, really, not this far out. I can see a barn, really far in the distance, some mountains behind that...”

 

“So you’re out in the middle of nowhere?” Waverly asks, picturing home. Nicole  _ mhm _ s in response, and Waverly hears her take a little sip of coffee. She can almost taste it on her tongue. She keeps her eyes closed, licks her lips. 

 

“I’m from the middle of nowhere.” she tells Nicole, and for some reason, it makes Nicole smile. 

 

“I like it,”

 

“I do too.”

 

The radio crackles to life calling for assistance at a nearby bar and Nicole sighs. “10-4.” she speaks into the radio. Waverly’s stomach does a somersault unexpectedly.

 

“I’ve gotta go,” Nicole says apologetically, and at the exact same moment Waverly says “That was hot.” Nicole falters. “Wait, wh-”

 

“Oh, sure, of course. Here I am taking up your whole lunch break!” she laughs but it’s self-deprecating and Nicole wants to radio back in and say she’s unavailable, she wants to stay and talk. 

 

“No, I- I loved the company,”

 

“You did?”

 

“So much,” 

 

Waverly loves her voice so much. It’s so soft, it’s so… so something. She can’t name it. 

 

“Maybe I’ll accidentally call you again sometime,” Waverly says quietly. She’s trying to play it off as a joke, but she’s testing the waters, seeing what Nicole would think of that.

 

“Maybe I’d like that,” Nicole bites her lip to quieten her smile. 

 

“Okay. See you later, Officer.” Waverly’s smile is back, Nicole can hear it, and it makes her smile too.

 

“Bye, Waverly.” 

 

They hang up and Waverly wants to scream. Her grin is huge when she turns around and-

 

“Oh, hey Chrissy.” she can’t play it off. 

 

“Was that your  _ girlfriend _ ?” Chrissy teases her with a grin and Waverly smacks her arm.

 

“Stop.”

 

“Alright, alright. Let’s go get some dinner.”

 

So they do, and Waverly picks out the most interesting restaurant she can find so she has more to talk about when she next calls Nicole. She even makes Chrissy get the escargot.


	2. Something Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly and Nicole grow closer as their calls rack up, and Waverly's secretly followed when she arrives in London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys!!!!! I didn't expect so many kind comments! I've written almost all of this fic already so I'll probs update it every evening until it's over :)

**Something Here**

 

Nicole drives to this bar with Waverly’s “ _ That’s was hot,”  _ fresh in her mind the whole way there, and it’s like she’s on autopilot. She walks inside in a daze, and then as soon as those saloon doors open she has her record-scratch moment. 

 

It’s utter chaos, of course, with men circled around these two drunks brawling, and she suddenly remembers where she is, and that she’s supposed to be doing a job here. So she shoulders through the men, one hand poised at her hip just in case, and she sets about resolving this dumb fight. 

 

She does it, but it’s not pretty. She gets punched in the face - like  _ right in the face!  _ And it’s a complete accident, which makes it all the more embarrassing. It happens when some drunk asshole passes out midway through throwing a punch at some  _ other _ drunk asshole. People in this town get drunk anytime of day, it’s crazy! 

 

But she doesn’t care. When she gets hit, she collides with the bar immediately, her ribs pressing firmly into the unforgiving wood, and she knows she’s going to be bruised there, and probably on her face too. It knocks her Stetson off and it lands in a puddle of stale beer on the bar - that’s annoying. But she still doesn’t care. She straightens up, puts her hat back on, and sets about doing her job. Cool as a cucumber. She doesn’t mind at all, because her mind is on Waverly in Paris. 

 

She wonders if Waverly likes girls. She wonders if Waverly likes cops. She said  _ that was hot.  _ She wonders if Waverly thinks it’s hot when girls have bruises and stuff. She thinks about what she’ll say if Waverly calls again, how she’ll tell this story. Nicole always tries to act fairly, after all, that’s what justice is all about. But with Waverly’s next call in mind, she’s a little softer, a little more forgiving.

 

On any other day, getting hit and thrown about like that would mean hauling the guy to jail, but today she’s in a good mood. So she brings him to, helps him into her car, and then she drives him home. She feels like she’s done a good deed, and she sings to the radio as she drives back to the station. Aerosmith, her favourite, croons loudly, but she croons louder, tapping on the steering wheel as she goes.

 

When she tells Nedley about it later that evening, he eyes her suspiciously with a deep set frown. It’s not like her to be so forgiving, least of all after getting knocked around like that. She’s tough, and she’s got something to prove, being a woman- a  _ gay woman  _ policing this town. It hasn’t been easy for her to earn the respect of the locals. Something’s up, he knows it, but he lets it slide anyway. Some things are just better left alone, that’s what Randy Nedley thinks. 

 

When Nicole finally gets home it’s getting late, and she’s utterly shattered. She showers off the day and inspects the purple blooming impressively on the pale skin by her ribs. She imagines telling Waverly the story of how she got it. She imagines Waverly maybe even saying “That’s so hot,” again. She bites her lip to suppress her stupid smile. She’s like a teenager fawning all over her crush, and it’s crazy. 

 

She redresses in a soft sweater and eases into her car to go to the store, still thinking it over. Nicole knows she’s being crazy. She’s only spoken to this girl a couple of times, but she can’t get her out of her head. She tries to picture her, but she can’t. Nothing seems to suit that voice.

 

She’s hyper-aware of everything. Every mundane little action that used to feel like nothing, now feels like something - something to talk about another time, at least. She pushes her trolley around the wide aisles under flickering fluorescent lights. She looks down at her sneakers, squeaking against the unremarkable floor. She looks for anything interesting. Anything she can mention next time Waverly calls from that unknown number. 

 

She looks at the choice cuts of steak. What if Waverly’s a vegetarian?

 

Nicole’s not in the mood for steak anyway. She wanders around for a bit, but inspiration doesn’t strike, and she can’t think straight anyway. By the end of her trip she’s carrying a little bag back to her car, and the only items it contains are baby carrots, hummus, cookies, and soda. She knows she’s going to end up ordering a pizza later on. 

 

She adjusts the bag, wincing as she does, and she thinks that she’s totally earned the pizza.

  
  


***

 

The next morning, she’s driving to work, sunglasses on, radio blaring. She’s early, almost an hour early, because she wants to make a coffee and get ready for the day ahead. It’s a paperwork day, and those are her worst days. She never became a cop to sit at a desk and push paper around for eight hours straight. But hey, most of the time, she gets to feel like she’s making a real difference to this community, so she really does try to make the most of it, even if that does mean waking up earlier to get a jumpstart on the days where she does nothing but scribble on paper. 

 

It’s 8.20-ish in the morning and she’s still in the car when her phone rings. Nicole’s hand reaches to grab it, but she stops short. She’s no hypocrite. She glances up at her mirror then swerves off to the side, pulling over to grab her phone guilt-free. Being a cop means leading by example, that’s what her boss tells her, and as difficult as Nedley can be, she agrees with him. So she doesn’t answer the phone while she’s driving. She’s only 5 minutes away from the station, but recently, anytime the phone rings she jumps to answer it as quickly as she can, just in case it’s-

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey, it’s Waverly!”

 

‘Waves, hi,” The nickname slips out from between her teeth before she can shove it back in there, and she feels the beat between them. She wonders what Waverly’s reaction is, a million miles away in Paris. Well, actually it’s about 3900 miles away, because she checked.

 

3900 miles away, Waverly falters at the nickname. Her cheeks flush pink immediately, her heart tumbles. She feels silly for feeling this way, but Nicole’s been on her mind nonstop.

 

“What are you up to, Officer?” There’s flirtation in her voice, and she’s pushing it a little, seeing what Nicole’s reaction might be. Nicole, on the other end of the line, pulls at the collar of her uniform. She already has the top two buttons undone, but she’s hot enough to want to undo the third. She swallows as if she can swallow back the heat she feels whenever Waverly’s tone changes like that.

 

“I’m on my way to work, actually. But I can talk, I’m early.” she rushes the last bit so Waverly doesn’t cut their conversation short.

 

“Oh yeah? Uniform and all?” Waverly’s  _ really  _ pushing it, but some part of her just… needs to know if it’s just her feeling these crazy, stupid feelings. 

 

“Of course.” Nicole wishes she was better at flirting; she’s not usually this bad, in fact, she’s usually pretty smooth. She’s tongue-tied though and she rolls her eyes and throws her head back against the seat, cursing herself. “Badge, holster, the works.”

 

“Sounds…”

 

There’s a long pause that drags out between them. The tension nearly kills Nicole. 

 

“Sounds… what?” Nicole’s heart is beating so hard she thinks she can hear it in her ears, feel it in her mouth. But over on her balcony in Paris, Waverly’s lost her nerve.

 

“Sounds very cool.” she says instead and Nicole nods a bit, more to herself than anything. Accepting her disappointment.

 

“I thought you were gonna say… something else.” she chuckles weakly. She hears Waverly swallow. Then her voice shifts to a completely new tone.

 

“Did you want me to?”

 

It’s suddenly more intense. Like  _ really  _ intense. Nicole presses clumsily at her AC. She’s feeling way too hot. 

 

“I- I don’t…” she clears her throat “...know?” she stammers like an absolute  _ idiot.  _ Waverly bites her lip. She looks down at a couple holding coffees just forgotten between them as they kiss passionately against the wall outside the laundrette opposite. 

 

If they were together, this might be the moment that Waverly would think about kissing Nicole. It’s a crazy thought, an  _ insane  _ thought. It’s not like these phone calls have been  _ dates.  _

 

Have they?

 

“Am I going crazy, Nicole?” Waverly whispers, suddenly brave. She’s always been brave, that’s what Wynonna told her when she was about to leave for this trip all those weeks ago. “Is the Parisian air getting to me or something? Or is there something…” she swallows though, hesitant, uncertain. Nicole does the same. She holds the phone away from herself for a second, exhaling purposefully to steady her uncharacteristic nerves, before she pulls it back to her mouth and replies with more bravery than she really has right now.

 

“I think there’s something here.”

 

Nicole never imagined in her wildest dreams that a romance could start this way, and she’s not saying that this  _ is _ a romance or anything of the sort. But it sure is... something. 

 

***

 

Waverly’s been in Paris for a few weeks now. Ever since Nicole quietly admitted that there could be something in these little conversations, Waverly’s been calling her almost every single day, and something is just building and building. They even call twice a day sometimes, because if Nicole’s working through the night she’ll call just to say goodnight. Waverly looks forward to those days more than others. She loves how Nicole’s soft voice sounds when it’s just as tired as her own, murmuring  _ “Sweet dreams, Waves,”  _ Waverly can never sleep after those calls because it sends her heart galloping away like a wild horse. 

 

Waverly still hasn’t seen what Nicole looks like, but she thinks about it almost all the time. She curses the couples she sees everywhere, because her heart is starting to yearn for this mystery woman. She wants to be the couple sharing a lazy breakfast in the morning. She wants to be the couple dining by candlelight, or the couple dancing to the street performers. 

 

She knows what Nicole has for dinner every night. She knows that her favourite colour is blue, and that she has a cat called Calamity Jane. She knows what happens at her work every day, what shifts she’s working for the week, when she has days off. She knows all sorts of little things. But she doesn’t know if she has dark hair or maybe blonde hair. She doesn’t know if she has blue eyes or green or brown or grey or hazel.

 

She’s sitting in a train station in the middle of Paris, and it’s gorgeous. It sits, utterly beautiful, amidst total chaos outside. It even has one of those old fashioned arrivals and departures boards. Waverly takes a picture of it to show Nicole later, then a video to show it in action, flickering away.

 

This train she’s waiting for is supposed to be taking her and Chrissy to London, but Chrissy met some handsome French guy, and they’re going to Belgium in two weeks instead. They’ve got a plan, though, to meet up again in Amsterdam next month and continue their travels together after Chrissy’s had her fling. Waverly doesn’t blame her. If she had met Nicole out here, who knows, maybe she would be off on some romantic two-week fling as well.

 

Waverly’s got an hour or so to kill before she can hop aboard this train. So she unlocks her phone and scrolls to Nicole’s contact details. They’ve started texting now. Not often or anything, mostly they stick to their phone calls. But the train station is loud and chaotic and Waverly knows she won’t hear a word Nicole says if she calls. So she sends a text. One, small, single text.

 

_ What do you look like? _

 

Nicole takes about 10 minutes to reply, but when she does, Waverly bites her lip and traces the words like they’re a picture.

 

_ Well, I guess I’m pretty tall. 5’9”. I’ve got red hair. Brown eyes.  _

 

Waverly suddenly feels greedy. She types furiously.

 

_ Will you send me a picture? _

 

Nicole takes so long to reply that Waverly has to board the train. She knows that if Nicole does send a picture she won’t see it until she arrives in London, and that drives her mad for the entire journey. She checks her watch constantly, but the minutes seem to stretch on forever.

 

Two hours later she finally gets off the train and gets some data coverage - Thank you, Europe, for letting her use her mobile data everywhere! She frantically checks her messages but it’s taking  _ forever _ to catch up and she feels so impatient, almost  _ anxious _ . She’s leaning against a wall in the train station, out of the way of everyone else rushing around her. She’s completely unaware of her chaotic surroundings, absorbed in the little screen in her palm.

 

At last, her phone starts pinging and Nicole’s messages come flooding in.

 

_ I will if you will _

 

_ Shoot! I must have missed you. You must be on the train by now. I hope you have a nice trip! _

 

_ Promise you’ll send one back? Here’s me: _

 

The picture takes an extra second to load. And then there it is. Waverly almost dies, she’s sure. Her fingers go to her lips, catching her gasp, before they fall to her chest, where her heart beats erratically beneath her fingertips. 

 

Nicole doesn’t just have brown eyes, she has the most captivating brown eyes Waverly’s ever seen. She doesn’t just have red hair, she has the prettiest flame-red hair she’s ever seen. She forgot to mention, also, that she has dimples. Dimples that Waverly wants to just kiss and kiss and kiss. She forgot to mention that she has a smile that makes Waverly’s knees go weak. 

 

She calls Nicole. 

 

“Waves, are you-”

 

“You are… so pretty!” Waverly is in love, she’s sure. She’s so sure. It’s hit her, hard. And yes, it’s soon and it’s insane, but her heart is ricocheting around her ribcage. This funny, soft, patient, gentle, kind woman is also just… the prettiest girl Waverly’s ever seen! 

 

Nicole’s cheeks flush and she averts her eyes from where her colleagues are looking at her. She excuses herself and rushes to the conference room.

 

“Thanks,” she’s shy and Waverly can hear it in her voice and she wants to scream. She’s in London, twenty million miles away or something, from where Nicole is in… she doesn’t even know where she lives! Somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Canada! She hasn’t even left the damn train station and she wants to leave. “You didn’t send one back,” Nicole’s voice is soft, but she can hear a little tinge of disappointment.

 

“Because I called you straight away! As soon as I saw your picture. I’m still in the train station.” she chuckles at herself. She feels silly now she’s actually speaking to Nicole but she doesn’t really care. Nicole’s speechless again, not for the first time with Waverly. Waverly always manages to do that to her.

 

“Send me one. I want to see you.” she whispers it, and Waverly feels like she’s there, almost. Her chest aches. She bites her lip, reluctant to say goodbye.

 

“Ohhh, okay. Okay. Fine.” she relents, but she  _ really _ doesn’t want to hang up. She wants to get a taxi to the nearest airport and fly home and find Nicole and just… kiss and her stupidly gorgeous dimples.

 

“Okay,”

 

“Bye,”

 

“Bye,” Nicole almost says  _ baby _ , but she manages to catch it. 

 

Waverly frantically scrolls through her phone, looking for a picture of herself. She locates one that she kinda likes, one from last year. She was supposed to be working the bar at Shorty’s on a Saturday night, but the picture is of her sitting out the back eating fries on her break. It was a lucky shot, and she thinks she looks kind of cute in it.

 

She sends the message over and waits anxiously for a response.

 

Nicole opens her phone as soon as it pings. She’s still lingering in the conference room. And there she is.

 

Waverly is a vision. She’s an angel. Nicole has to sit down, and she finds herself leaning back against the window ledge, one hand curling around the edge of it tightly. Her heart is in her mouth, or on her sleeve, or something. She wants to go to London and ask her out, buy her flowers, kiss her hand and buy her dinner, take her dancing, tell her that she’s falling for her.

 

_ You’re even more beautiful than I imagined  _ she replies before she’s called out to an urgent domestic dispute. 

 

There’s never been a day that Nicole didn’t want to be a cop. There’s never been a day that she wanted to clock off early in favour of something else. But right now, she really wishes she wasn’t being called out. 

 

Waverly could have chewed through her thumb while she waited for a response, but when she reads the message her nervous lips break into a huge grin. She pockets her phone and finally leaves the station to go find her hotel for the next few nights. 

 

She doesn’t see the man who’s been standing watching her. She doesn’t see him push off of the railings and follow her out. Why would she? He’s dressed like everyone else. His face is like everyone else’s. His hair is like every other guy’s. He blends in. 

 

He follows her for more than twenty minutes, from the station, onto the tube, all the way to her hotel, where he finally stops. He stands across the road and takes a photo of the building so he doesn’t forget the name of it, then he carries on about his business. 

 

Waverly checks in and doesn’t bother unpacking. She collapses on her bed, exhausted, and unlocks her phone again. She doesn’t have any other messages from Nicole, but she goes back to that picture and traces her middle finger along the line of her jaw, along her hair.

 

After a few days in London she’s supposed to hop on a bus and start her tour of the UK; Oxford, Bristol, over to Wales, then back to England to see Liverpool, then to Manchester, Cumbria, then up to Scotland. From Scotland she’s supposed to go to Amsterdam to meet Chrissy.

 

But Waverly finds herself looking at flights home. The flights are a  _ lot.  _ Like $700-$800 from here. It would mean cutting her trip short. She couldn’t just visit home and then carry on travelling. She’d have to go home and stop touring Europe. 

 

She chews on her lip. There hasn’t been a second where she wanted to go home yet. She has loved every city, loved every second. Even when she had her wallet stolen. Even every time Chrissy went off with some guy for a night or a weekend or a whole week. Every minute has been exhilarating and life-affirming. But looking at those big brown eyes, she just wants to run home and drive however long it takes to find her, to fling herself into her arms and never stop kissing her. To push her onto the couch and run her fingers through that gorgeous red hair and kiss along her jaw and…

 

Well. She clears her throat and stops herself from going any further with that line of thinking.

 

She puts her phone away and tries to forget about the whole thing. Crazy idea. They’ll meet when they’re supposed to meet, she’s sure. So she leaves it up to fate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um, does anyone wanna be Earper buddies on twitter? @carpevenus


	3. London Heist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter one today, 'cause the next few are gonna be longer when it all kicks off

**London Heist**

  
  


_ Can I call? _

 

_ Yeah _

 

“Hey you,”

 

“Hey, how you doing?” Nicole smiles as she speaks. She’s home at last after an extremely messy couple of days. She hasn’t spoken to Waverly since sending her response to the picture the day before. It’s been crazy at work, she hasn’t been home at all, and she’s really feeling it now. But she’s been looking forward to talking to Waverly all day.

 

“I’m good. London is…” she hesitates. “It’s cool.” 

 

Nicole can hear her hesitation and chuckles. “It’s just not Paris, right?” 

 

“Right. Not Paris.” Waverly giggles down the line and Nicole’s heart lurches. It’s becoming a  _ thing.  _ She feels this lurch, like she’s seasick, every time Waverly laughs. But Waverly knows nothing of it and carries on regardless. “It’s super expensive and hipster-y, and a lot of it’s quite... grey. And the food definitely isn’t as nice, although there’s a lot more veggie and vegan options. Anyway, I’m rambling on! How are you? I haven’t spoken to you in ages.”

 

Nicole’s cutting carrots while she listens to Waverly speak, with the cat slinking between her legs and around her ankles. If she closes her eyes, it’s almost like Waverly’s there with her, and that’s not a bad thought at all. 

 

She exhales a long breath before she answers. “Crazy day, baby, I’m dealing with a clear homicide! I’ve- I’ve trained for this kind of thing but I’ve never had to deal with it for real, you know? This guy, he just  _ lost it  _ and- and killed his brother!” she’s waving her knife around as she speaks, only stopping her wild gesticulating to periodically carry on prepping her vegetables. “It started in a bar in town the other day, when I broke up the fight- you know the one, I told you about it, with the bruises and my hat getting wet,” 

 

Waverly’s lips quirk into a little smile. Did Nicole just…

 

Nicole carries on, oblivious.  “And almost every day since, someone’s been called to their house. And now… well.” she shakes her head to herself, letting her story tail off because she’s already told Waverly how it ends. A whole bunch of deadness.

 

Waverly doesn’t reply immediately and Nicole grimaces, wondering if she’s revealed too much. Not everyone can deal with this kind of stuff, she forgets that sometimes. She’s wanted to be this person, to do this job, for her entire life. But the gory details aren’t for everyone. But when Waverly does speak, Nicole is the one who can hardly deal with it.

 

“Did you just call me baby?”

 

Nicole tenses, jumps, nearly cuts her finger instead of the carrot. She’s telling this beautiful stranger about a murder she’s dealing with and- and did she? Did she accidentally let a  _ baby _ slip out? She had been so careful about keeping them tight between her teeth.

 

She stammers, panicking. She puts the knife down, both hands on the counter and closes her eyes. Thank god Waverly can’t see her right now. She tries to think.  _ Think _ , Haught!

 

“It’s okay, if you did…” Waverly interjects, and thank god, because Nicole just can’t pull herself together in time to come up with a decent answer. 

 

“I’m sorry, it just… it slipped out.”

 

Waverly smiles to herself, picturing the girl in that picture all nervous over it. The girl who deals with murders and bar fights, nervous because she accidentally called Waverly baby. She thinks about what it means - what  _ she  _ means to Nicole, if Nicole is somewhere in the world cooking dinner, talking about her day to someone she calls baby.

 

“I liked it,” Waverly admits with pink cheeks and moon eyes.

 

“Oh. That’s… that’s a relief.” she laughs, shoulders relaxing. She can resume her dinner prep then. She continues cutting carrots in silence for a moment. “I liked saying it.”

 

“I wish I could see you right now,” Waverly whispers, and this phone call is starting to feel really different to any of the others. Something’s changed since they saw each other. Nicole’s hands are full but they feel empty, like they’re craving this girl they’ve never known. 

 

“I’m just cooking,” she replies to paint the scene for Waverly. She’s learned that Waverly likes that. “CJ’s at my feet. I think it’s…” she pauses, listening to the radio to double check.  “I think it’s Simply Red on the radio right now?” she chuckles lightly, easily, and Waverly feels homesick all of a sudden. She wonders what song it is; tries to recall the songs from her childhood. She wonders if Nicole would abandon her cooking and dance with her if it was a good song. Waverly’s a romantic like that; she’s always dreamed of domestic bliss and romantic nights in. Glasses of wine and heart eyes by flickering candlelight. She’s not quite got there yet though. 

 

Before Waverly really knows what she’s doing, she’s speaking. “I wish I was there. I want to meet you.” she blurts and Nicole looks down at her phone in surprise. “As long as you want to meet me, of course.” Waverly adds. Nicole can’t help the little laugh that escapes.

 

“Are you kidding? I can’t wait to meet you,” she says, but what she means is that when she goes to bed, she imagines Waverly’s tucked up in her arms. When she cooks dinner, she imagines she’s cooking for two. When she drives to work she always goes early just in case Waverly calls. When she’s in a bar trying to cool off a fight that’s getting increasingly violent, she’s cool as a cucumber because she’s thinking of being the hero, because she wants Waverly to think that she is one.

 

There’s a lengthy pause, and Nicole goes to speak, but she’s beaten to it.

 

“Nicole.” Waverly’s voice is suddenly different. It’s cold and serious. It makes the hair on the back of Nicole’s neck stand up.

 

“Waves?”

 

“I’ve got to go.”

 

Nicole freezes. “Are you okay?” She’s a statue, knife suspended, vegetables forgotten on the board for a moment, awaiting confirmation that all is okay before she continues.

 

“Yeah. Gotta go.” She hangs up then, and Nicole knows something isn’t right. She can feel it in her bones. She’s got this feeling that something’s just...

 

_ Shake it off, Haught _ she tells herself. It’s nothing. It’s been a tough, tough week and she’s seen more than she ever expected to in this weird little town. She’s probably just getting paranoid. They warn you about this when you’re training: tough cases are hard to forget, those feelings creep into your real life, and you start to treat everyone and every moment like you can’t trust them. And Nicole doesn’t want that to be her, so she shrugs it off and goes back to cooking. It’s probably nothing. Waverly probably just has other things to do.

 

***

 

Two men walk right into her room, guns pointed at her. She sees two more men guarding the door outside. They’re not disguised in the slightest. No balaclava, no all-black outfits. That’s how she knows she’s in real trouble. A maid walks past the open door, past the armed men, and she doesn’t even falter. She walks past, tense, eyes straight ahead, as if they aren’t there at all. 

 

Waverly knows she’s in deep, deep shit. 

 

She’s in a foreign city all alone, no one to check in with. Nicole’s on the phone but what can she do?

 

“Hang up.” One man tells her. She knows she can’t test them. So she says goodbye to Nicole as calmly as she can, but she thinks she can hear her voice trembling now, and she knows her hands are as well. Adrenaline is coursing through her body.

 

“What do you want?” She says carefully, hands up now in a display of submission. She doesn’t want to die.  _ She doesn’t want to die. _ She can’t die without speaking to Wynonna once more, without telling her that she loves her. She can’t die without seeing Gus one last time. She can’t die without meeting Nicole. These thoughts race through her mind at the speed of light and she’s dizzy with fear.

 

“Phone.” She hands it over, eager, desperate to get this over with. 

 

She has money. She thinks that’s what they’ll ask for next and she’s so terrified but she’s trying her best to stay calm. She can give them about $1500CAD but not in cash. She’s only got a £10 note in cash, and some coins jangling around in her pocket. Panic rises in her chest like dough and she feels like she’s choking on it, but she tries her best to push it down.

 

She thought guns were illegal here. But here they are, pointed right at her. 

 

“Take her.” The man nods his head towards her but his eyes are on her phone, already scrolling. He’s distracted. He must do this all the time, she realises. There is no adrenaline for him, there is no panic. This is highly organised, like clockwork. Just everyday work for these men, and that’s really terrifying. She’s fallen into some kind of organised crime. 

 

The other man lifts his hand and smacks her on the head with his weapon and that’s that. She crumples and before she hits the ground she prays that her body will be okay while she’s out. Then she’s gone, out like a light. 

 

The man tucks his gun into his belt and sets about tying Waverly to a chair. He sighs as he works. His back aches, and he’s sick of this. At least she’s a slight little thing. 

 

“Ready.” he says after ten minutes of taping Waverly to a chair. He’s sweaty and worn out already. He’s getting too old for this shit. The man with the phone looks up.

 

“No parents listed.” he runs his fingers through his hair with growing frustration. This is usually much harder when there’s no immediate family listed. 

 

“She was on the phone when we came in.” the attacker suggests with a shrug. He considers this.

 

“Alright, I’m calling.”

 

He calls Nicole. It barely rings before she answers.

 

“Hey, Waves, are you okay? You had me worried there.” Nicole’s voice comes soft and easy and he thinks he’s hit the jackpot. Girlfriend, probably. 

 

“She isn’t available right now.” an Englishman’s voice filters through, low and threatening, and Nicole realises immediately that she had it right the first time. Something was wrong. Her heart plummets and she feels sick.

 

Waverly begins to come to again, but it’s hazy, and she’s slow to realise what’s going on. 

 

“Who is this?” Nicole demands. She wishes she was at work and she could trace this call but she can’t from her kitchen and she has no hope of getting to the station before this call ends. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. She turns her oven off, abandoning the chicken completely. The timer pings prematurely.

 

The Englishman looks at Waverly’s passport for details. “We have Waverly. If you want to see her again, you have 48 hours to wire £10,000.”

 

Nicole doesn’t even know how much that is in Canadian dollars, but she knows she hasn’t got it. 

 

“Let me speak to her first.” she’s not stupid. He rolls his eyes. They all do this. He pulls the gag from Waverly’s mouth and puts the phone to her ear.

 

“Hello?” she’s dazed, Nicole can tell, so she tries to keep it clear and concise. 

 

“Waves? It’s Nicole. Are you hurt?”

 

“N-no. Not really.” She looks down at herself and everything seems to still be there.

 

“Are you trapped?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“London?”

 

Waverly looks around as subtly as she can, checking its the same hotel, that they haven’t moved her. “Yeah.”

 

“I’m going to find you, baby. I promise. Where in London are you?”

 

“Time’s up. Let’s talk money.” He sounds bored. He scratches the back of his head with the base of his gun. Nicole tries to remember her training, but her gut tells her something different. It tells her to go off-book, to go rogue. So she does.

 

“Text me the details. You’ll have the money in 48 hours.” It’s a lie, of course, but she’s buying herself time, and she might even be able to use some of the bank details. He hesitates. It’s not usually this easy. Usually there’s threats and begging and bargaining and tears, but he knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. So he doesn’t say anything, just hangs up. After five minutes he texts the details.

 

Nicole reminds herself to be a cucumber. A cool, calm, collected cucumber. Cucumbers are heroes. She checks the time and makes a note of it in a notepad. She’s going to save Waverly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You cutiepies are killing me with all these nice comments, I'm sending you all kisses. I hope this one wasn't too boring for you. Let me love you on twitter @carpevenus <3


	4. A little less conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Galpal-oween! Let's Get This Bread and by This Bread I mean Waverly.

**A Little Less Conversation**

 

Nicole just leaves her chicken right there in the oven. She Googles flights and buys the first one she sees on her credit card without shopping around - not exactly cool cucumber behaviour, but who can blame her?

 

Adrenaline is coursing through her rapidly and she’s not thinking straight, but she’s hyper focused on the task at hand and that’s all that matters. She goes straight upstairs and starts packing as practically as she can. Phone charger, underwear, passport, money - vest, _obviously_. Then she bundles Calamity Jane into a travel carrier, along with some toys and food, and puts everything in the car.

 

She speeds over to Nedley’s house and shoves it all at him. “Family emergency.” is what she tells him when he just gawks at her like she’s gone insane. She tells him that she has to go out of town for a few days, that she’ll be in London, and that if he hasn’t heard from her in two days, something’s wrong. When she realises that she left CJ’s favourite treats at home, she fumbles for some notes in her pocket to give to Nedley, too.

 

Nedley knows Nicole better than Nicole realises, so he knows something’s already gone wrong. This behaviour just isn’t like her. She’s pale as a ghost and buzzing around like a jitterbug. But he knows better than to pry, so he takes the cat and tells her to check in every day or she’s fired, and if he doesn’t hear from her in 24 hours - _not 48 -_ then he will be in touch with the appropriate authorities. “Yes, sir.” she agrees before sprinting back to her car and screeching away.

 

She’s on a plane 3 hours later. The flight is long, 9 hours nonstop. She made sure not to get one with any stops because she can’t afford any extra hours wasted on travel.

 

By the time the wheels are on the tarmac in London, she’s lost a quarter of her time. Only 36 hours remain, and she has a whole city to scour with no police force behind her.

 

Police work isn’t always quick, or high-tech, or stylish. Sometimes it comes down to old fashioned elbow grease and faith that justice will prevail. Nicole knows this is going to be one of those times.

 

She looks down at her notepad. It has a few key details jotted down, and a few things that may or may not be useful. But the cold, hard truth is, she doesn’t know that much about Waverly yet. _Yet._ They haven’t known each other long and their communication is limited by time zones and Nicole’s work schedule and Waverly’s globetrotting. They’re still just getting to know each other.

 

She knows Waverly loves languages, and that she can speak Latin fluently. She likes a vodka soda with a little lime. She’s a vegan but she’s had to break her code a few times whilst travelling some of the less vegan-friendly cities. She’s a virgo, 23 years old. She reads nonstop. Nicole knows what she eats every day and what she dreams about each night, if she does dream.

 

But she doesn’t know the names of her family. She doesn’t know if she has brothers or sisters. She doesn’t know where she usually lives, or where she worked before she left. She doesn’t even know her last name. She realises all of this with increasing dread.

 

But Nicole is determined. She’s going to do this. And she knows better than to dwell on problems. She chooses to focus on what she does know.

 

She knows that Waverly got the train from Paris to London, and after some quick research, she knows that the train station she would have arrived at is called St Pancras International. So that’s her starting point. She wishes she had some kind of jurisdiction here, then she could track her steps by CCTV from the station, but she can’t. So she keeps thinking. She knows Waverly’s leaving London soon, and she’s going Northwards up the country. She mentioned her first stop off point was some place called Oxford. Nicole remembers because Waverly put on this cute British accent to say it.

 

Waverly can’t drive from here, Nicole’s pretty sure she mentioned that. Too difficult from London, too much money, or something. She strains to recall all these sleepy conversations, desperate to remember any details that may be helpful. But the last week has been stressful and busy at work and so many of their conversations are foggy in her mind because of it. She clenches her fists involuntarily as the frustration builds in her. She pushes herself to keep thinking.

 

Waverly would have to rely on public transportation, and she knows she’s making a dangerous leap here, but the best guess she can make is that she’ll get a bus from a place called Marylebone: that’s the first suggestion on Google and it seems to be the simplest. It’s not concrete, it’s not even a little bit firm. But she has nothing else to go on except the hope that Waverly thinks the same way she does.

 

Nicole’s an hour away from Marylebone and she’s not sure even _how_ to get there, but she has no time to waste. So she throws herself into the foreign system. She navigates the complicated network of trains and “tubes” until she’s there, an hour and 15 minutes later - 15 minutes late due to confusion on her own part.

 

She arrives in Marylebone and it’s big and busy and beautiful. It reminds her of how Waverly described Paris a few weeks ago. It’s then that it hits her, for the first time, that she’s on the same ground as Waverly right now. Possibly even in the same place. God, she hopes.

 

It occurs to her, also, that if she fails in the next 34 hours and 45 minutes, whatever happens to Waverly will be her fault. She could have handed this in, reported it, solved it through the proper channels. But she’s here, alone, with no support, no backup, no weapons. She’s in her jeans and her Adidas and she feels so far from a police officer right now. She doesn’t even know where she is or how to pronounce the name of this dumb place. Someone even laughed at her when she said it!

 

But she’s not going to panic.

 

She goes to a 24-hour cafe and sets up shop.

 

***

 

It’s an entire _seventeen_ grueling hours later that Nicole hits on something. She has a mere 17 hours and 45 minutes left, and this is her first break.

 

She comes across a social media account owned by someone going by Champ-ionRode06969. He’s mentioned the name Waverly in a bunch of posts. It’s a man that she _swears_ she recognises, but she thinks that must be impossible, because he does in fact appear to know Waverly. In fact, it appears that he was once her boyfriend. Nicole scrunches her nose at the screen. Gross.

 

From him, she finds Waverly’s accounts. They’re a desolate wasteland though. There’s only two pictures on her Instagram. Nicole sips a glass of water - she had to cool it on the coffee - and clicks on one of the pictures. It’s just a quote about sisters from six years ago, but beneath that she finds a comment: Wynonna.

 

Nicole’s mind flashes back to the first time she answered the phone to Waverly at 6:30 on that Sunday morning. Waverly had said “Oh… Nonna?” She was trying to call her sister. She has a sister! Oh, Nicole could cry with relief.

 

Nicole needs to find Wynonna. She needs to get in touch. She clicks through to her account and begins scrolling. Wynonna’s own Instagram is much richer. It looks like she traveled around Europe herself only a few years ago, but there’s nothing recent. Nicole can’t find a last name for either of them and she can’t find any other social media accounts either. So that’s where her break ends, and frustration returns with a new intensity like a fire creeping up the inside of her throat.

 

She could throw her damn glass against the wall. They have to be the most private family in the entire world.

 

She takes a deep breath through her nose and wills herself to stay calm. It’s never been this hard before. She’s never dealt with such a high pressure case, ever. Even dealing with the recent murder… well, the guy was already dead when they got there, so to be frank, it really wasn’t that high pressure. But this is different. This is Waves, _her_ Waverly; she’s this girl Nicole’s supposed to meet and sweep off her feet, she’s sure of it. And it can’t end before it really even begins.

 

She has to save her. She closes her eyes, takes one more deep breath, steels herself, and then she dives back in with renewed focus.

 

She types out a message to Wynonna first, just in case.

 

_Hi, I’m sorry to message you out of the blue, but I’m looking to find Waverly in London. It’s very very urgent. Please get in touch ASAP. Nicole._

 

She has 17 hours left. She doesn’t think she’ll get a response, but she’s running out of avenues to pursue, short of calling every single hotel in Marylebone - of which there appear to be hundreds - and begging them to tell her if Waverly’s there. She carries on scrolling through Wynonna’s pictures, mind ticking. Her bottom lip has been almost permanently abused by her teeth over the last however many fractious hours - she’s losing track.

 

She needs a break. She needs something to just click.

 

And then something does. It’s like the clouds breaking and sunlight streaming through: she sees something. _A_ _pattern_.

 

Germany. Italy. France.

 

Waverly’s following the same path that Wynonna had only a few years earlier. Nicole scrolls urgently to see if Wynonna went to London too. She did. And there’s a location. Nicole holds her breath and prays to anyone who might be listening. She clicks. 

 

She can’t believe it. It’s Marylebone. There’s a hotel. _It’s Marylebone and there’s a hotel!_ Oh god, she can’t believe her luck. She feels a rush of adrenaline and frantically grabs at her bag, almost tripping over her own chair as she runs from the cafe.

 

Nicole gets a taxi. She doesn’t bother looking up directions or times. She gets a taxi right to the door of the place, gives the driver a bunch of notes without counting the unfamiliar money, and then she heads straight in.

 

She goes straight past the front desk, towards the rooms. It’s a big hotel, but not too big. She thinks she has a good enough eye that she can do this without asking anyone, because her gut tells her that if she asks for Waverly now she’ll find herself in a world of trouble, or worse, Waverly will.

 

It takes an agonizing hour and 45 minutes to search every floor, and after all of that, she sees nothing out of place. She returns to the lobby and spends another two hours watching, anxiety eating at her the entire time. What if she’s made a mistake? What if she’s wasted almost four hours in the wrong hotel? The wrong part of London entirely? Her evidence is hardly solid. Or what if she was right but they’ve moved her by now? Doubt begins to pull at her sleeve, forcing her to wonder if she’s really the woman for this job.

 

But then she sees something. Three men enter together, two men flanking with arms just a little wide; the exact way Nicole walks when she’s carrying. It stands out here because no one does carry. Following her hunch, she follows them all the way up to the third floor, room 36, where they all file in. She’s sure this is it. She can’t prove it, but hey, she doesn’t have to. She’s going in there no matter what.

 

There’s probably at least one other person in there, because someone would have stayed with Waverly, and Nicole thinks she might be fucked. That’s a lot of men.

 

She has to exhale a slow breath to calm herself. She’s not armed. She’s going against at least four men, two of which are likely armed, if not more. They’re relaxed, which she knows means they’re probably professionals. She’s up against it. But she’s a _great_ cop. She’s great, and she graduated top of her class, and if anyone can do this, she’s sure it’s her.

 

She stretches her neck, hears it pop. She wiggles side to side, loosening her limbs. She feels her bruised ribs shout at her, but she ignores it. Finally, she exhales a short breath.

 

Okay.

 

She boots the door open, and at once all four men are alarmed. Three guns are on her in an instant. In that split second, she surveys the room. Waverly’s in the middle of it, at the foot of the bed, tied to a chair. Her eyes are wide and on Haught, but Nicole doesn’t make eye contact yet. She’s all business. One man has a gun on Waverly, but Nicole ignores that. He won’t kill her. She’s the money, after all.

 

“I think you’ve got the wrong room, my love.” a man with a thick cockney accent moves towards her with purpose, gun still pointed at her face. He thinks she’s made a mistake. He thinks that she’s going to scramble out, terrified for her life. She uses that to her advantage.

 

As he approaches, she ducks and swipes at his wrist with her own, knocking the gun from his grasp. It clatters to the carpet a few feet away. He panics for half a second and it gives her just enough time to throw herself down and make a grab for it.

 

The second her fingers touch the weapon the three others open fire on her. She has to throw herself backwards completely, scarpering out of the room. Her heels scrape against the carpet as she half-crawls to safety. She only has a split second though.

 

Fuck. One. Two.

 

Go.

 

She rounds the doorway again. Guns start at her and she tells herself it’s okay, it’s fine Haught, it’s _fine_. This is why you have a vest.

 

Waverly is staring at her wide-eyed as she struts into the room again but Nicole really can’t spare a glance. No guns are on Waverly anymore though, so Nicole opens fire right back, and she’s better, she’s quicker, she’s more accurate. These men may be professional kidnappers but their skills certainly don’t lie in weapons handling.

 

The last man goes down but as he does, his last bullet hits Nicole in the stomach, and it _hurts_ but as she goes down she thinks, well, at least it’s not the ribs again, right?

 

Waverly screams around her gag, but Nicole manages to choke out some words of comfort.

 

“It’s okay. I’m wearing a vest.” she gasps, utterly winded, but her voice doesn’t carry because the force of the bullet has taken it from her. Waverly isn’t calmed, screaming and screaming into the fabric balled up in her mouth until Nicole finally forces herself up just to stop her.

 

“I’m fine. See? No blood.” she shows Waverly as she limps towards her, and Waverly’s frightened eyes survey her frantically before finally, she relaxes. The panic drains from her eyes and is replaced with relief. Nicole drops beside her to undo the restraints, of which there are plenty, and Waverly pulls the gag free herself.

 

“Oh my god,” is all she can manage, and Nicole smiles sympathetically. She stretches out her jaw, aching from the gag.

 

“Are you okay? Did- did they…”

 

“No, no, they didn’t do anything. They just… tied me up!”

 

“And tried to get a buttload of money for you,” Nicole adds, a chuckle bubbling up in her throat. She’s giddy with relief that she found her, that she’s okay, that everything’s fine. She feels dizzy with the rush of it all - or maybe it’s exhaustion, or maybe the extensive bruising to her body because like, she’s got a lot going on right now. She’s not sure she’s ever been so beaten up in her life. She’s been in climbing accidents that felt like a spa weekend in comparison.

 

Waverly just looks at her. This crazy, cool, redheaded superhero in a cute sweater who kicked down a door and stole a gun to save her life, now just standing here all tall and gorgeous and soft. “It’s nice to meet you by the way,” she says, still dazed. Nicole breaks into a grin, dimples and everything, and hooooo boy, Waverly feels some feelings. Her eyes drop to those dimples.

 

“It’s nice to meet you t-” she’s cut off. Waverly’s hands are at her jaw and she’s kissing her like it’s her last night on Earth, because for a moment back there, she thought it was, and she’s not wasting any more time.

 

Nicole only hesitates for a millisecond, if that, before she registers and brings her hands to Waverly’s waist, pulling her close and kissing her back. And oh, god, she feels so perfect. Her heat and her shape and her everything, she fits just right.

 

Kissing Nicole is a whole new experience, different from any kiss Waverly’s had before. Nicole is steady and patient and she slows Waverly right down. Their kiss ends up slowing until it’s soft and lazy, with little smiles pulling at the corners of their lips, and Waverly feels lightheaded with the sheer romance of it all.

 

When they break apart for a moment, Waverly brushes her fingers across Nicole’s cheek. There’s still a hint of a bruise there from the bar fight, but it looks worse than it is, only because her eyes are dark-rimmed from the sheer exhaustion of the last few days. Nicole tilts her head to catch Waverly’s knuckles with her lips, pressing a soft kiss there.

 

“By the way, all of that just now? So hot. You’re... _so_ cool, Nicole.” Waverly’s lips have pulled into a smile and Nicole can’t help her own lips matching. She brushes away some long, wavy hair. Waverly’s eyes are warm and full of something that makes Nicole’s heart race.

 

“All in a day’s work, right?” she jokes. But Waverly’s not joking. Her gaze drops to Nicole’s lips, and then back to her eyes. Her voice shifts to that one Nicole heard on the phone before, the one that made her want to unbutton her shirt and hit the AC, except now it’s in person and it’s so much better.

 

“How will I ever repay you?” she flirts, biting her lip and looking at Nicole from beneath her lashes with suggestion heavily laced throughout her words.

 

Nicole could die. She stammers, and Waverly presses closer, her body flush against Nicole’s, chin tilting up, inviting her to dip down and take those lips in a kiss, and god, she wants to, but...

 

“I- well.” Nicole smiles apologetically. “Maybe we could get out of the room filled with dead guys first?” Waverly remembers them, then. Oh yeah.

 

“Right. Maybe I could just take you for coffee, then?” she smiles sheepishly and Nicole agrees. 

 

“It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more to go! Super enjoyed putting off my assignments for a whole week to do this, I'm gonna be sad to see it end!
> 
> Come say hi to me if you're also a cucumber hero girl, because uhhh, no pressure but I probs wanna marry you. https://twitter.com/carpevenus


	5. Are you gonna be my girl?

**Are You Gonna Be My Girl?**

 

Nicole’s got other concerns, and they keep creeping in as they roam the streets of London.

 

“The room’s in your name,”

 

“No, they changed it so no one could find me. Assholes.”

 

“Security footage?”

 

“ _Come on._ They had armed men in the hall whilst the staff just walked right on by!”

 

Waverly has a point. She remembers whispers of this sort of thing happening back in the Big City. Whoever authorised it, or whoever was blackmailed or beaten into authorising it, would get in touch with whoever runs the operation, and from there, it would almost certainly be tidied up without the authorities getting involved.

 

Nicole knows the drill, really. But you know, she’s never flown halfway across the world and killed a bunch of men to save a girl before, so she’s got some lingering worries. And it’s not that she feels bad, because she doesn’t. She’s trained to make these decisions, to handle these situations. But it wasn’t exactly above board.

 

But she shakes it off. Because she _does_ know how these things go down, and she knows a bunch of criminals won’t be racing to call the police to report a kidnapping gone wrong. She knows that for all of this to have even happened there, like that, in broad daylight, the staff would have had to be fairly familiar with this kind of organised crime, at least enough to look the other way when it went down. And that, although terrifying, eases her tension a little.

 

“I still can’t believe you came. I can’t believe you… like, kicked down the door and saved me and…” She looks up at Nicole. All pretty and leggy and hot as hell, with those dimples that make Waverly just melt. Waverly’s still on a high from, you know, not dying.

 

Fuck it.

 

She drags her down a tiny alleyway and pushes her up against the wall, leaning on her tiptoes to kiss her deeply. Her fists are bundled in Nicole’s sweater when she feels her tense and inhale sharply. It’s involuntary on Nicole’s part and she’s disappointed when Waverly breaks away.

 

“Oh god,” She remembers and leaps back like a frightened cat. “I’m so sorry!” she flounders. She keeps forgetting that Nicole is a mess of bruising. Nicole swats at her with a smile.

 

“Stop worrying, I am literally fine.” It’s not like she’s made of _glass_ and even if she was, she wouldn’t mind breaking if it was under Waverly’s hungry hands.

 

“I just keep getting you more and more hurt! I’m like the worst gir-” she stops short suddenly before the last words slips out. Shit.

 

She forces out an awkward chuckle and brightens her voice until it’s bordering on shrill to try to play it off. “Let’s go get that coffee, shall we?” But Nicole’s not stupid. She knows exactly what Waverly was about to say and smiles to herself with some satisfaction.

 

“I think you’d be a pretty good girlfriend, actually.” she’s replies smoothly. She’s _so much_ better at flirting now she’s not on the phone, now that she can see every time Waverly blushes, every time her lips pull up at the corners.

 

Waverly winces as it becomes apparent that she has indeed been caught out in her slip up. “You do?”

 

Nicole’s smile softens. “Are you kidding? You’re funny and ambitious and kind-hearted. You’re…” her smile turns shy, although she tries to hide it with a little shrug. “You’re even more beautiful in person. What’s not to like?”

 

Waverly can think of a few things. She harassed her for days because she couldn’t figure out that she had the wrong number for her own sister. She got so hung up on flirting that she got _kidnapped_ and Nicole had to come and save her. Nicole nearly got killed like a million times and Waverly’s hands just keep roaming regardless, finding all those purple bruises. She’s just a flustered mess around Nicole. Still, she takes the compliments.

 

“I guess... And my life’s not usually this dramatic, I swear.” That makes Nicole laugh out loud. It’s a sound that makes Waverly’s head swim. She throws her head back, and her mane of flame-red hair shakes with her. Waverly’s heart skips a beat and she thinks she’d actually quite like to be this woman’s girlfriend. She leans into Nicole’s side instinctively, and Nicole pulls her in closer in kind. This is what contentment must feel like, she thinks.

 

Waverly wonders if they look like that couple who always stopped outside the laundrette in Paris. She wonders if one day they might actually be that couple.

 

They slip into a coffee house, bags in tow, and finally plonk themselves down at a table. Over their cups of coffee, Waverly asks a million questions. She wants to know how Nicole found her, every detail of it. Nicole doesn’t even know where to start with it all, so she starts with how she abandoned her chicken as soon as she got the phone call, and how, presumably, it’s still in her oven at home. Then she goes from there.

 

Waverly sits there, coffee almost forgotten, and she’s just enraptured, even as Nicole tries to minimise her heroic part in it all. Sure, seventeen hours spent trawling the internet for information in a run down cafe isn’t totally glamorous, but it sure is romantic. At least, it is in Waverly’s eyes. She can hardly imagine any of her previous partners doing anything remotely close to it. In fact, the only other person she can imagine undertaking such a behemoth task is Wynonna. And that, she thinks, is a very good sign.

 

“So _why_ did you come? Why didn’t you hand it in to someone else?”

 

“Well,” Nicole shifts. She doesn’t want to sound arrogant. “I thought I would find you quicker. Besides, you had _just_ told me that you wanted to meet, so, you know. It would be bad form to not come, right?” she jokes, and Waverly gives her a wry smile, acknowledging the joke.

 

Nicole is like that, she’s finding out. She makes little throw-away jokes that effectively depreciate her own mammoth efforts. It’s a defensive thing, like she can’t lay all her cards on the table. Like if Waverly knows how much she put into saving her, she’ll know how much she likes her, and that’s a big scary thought. Scarier than a gunfight in a London hotel. Waverly gets it, because she’s a bit nervous too, especially now the adrenaline from not dying is fading.

 

They talk for hours and hours. They talk about Waverly’s plans, Nicole’s plans. They talk about family and jobs. At some point, Waverly ducks out to call Wynonna, and Nicole checks in with Nedley. Then they carry on talking and talking and talking, drinking cup after cup of coffee. The sun dips below the tall buildings and the streetlights begin to twinkle outside.

 

They eventually find out that under normal circumstances, they live only 10 minutes from each other. Waverly smacks her hand on the table and gawks when she finds out.

 

“Oh my god, so your boss Nedley… That’s _Randy_ Nedley?”

 

“Yeah! You know him?”

 

“Know him? I’m traveling with his daughter! Well, I was before she met that guy, anyway.” Waverly rolls her eyes goodnaturedly. Nicole just shakes her head. In what is undoubtedly the craziest week of her life, this is the bit she can’t get her head around.

 

“How have I never met you around Purgatory?” she frowns. She thinks of all the hours she’s spent patrolling. All the bars she’s been to. All the games she’s attended. All the cars she’s pulled over. She thinks of being in Shorty’s just last week, where Waverly had worked -  forever, apparently. How had they never crossed paths? “What are the odds of us meeting like _this_?” but Waverly just shrugs with a little smile, sipping her coffee.

 

“Fate works in mysterious ways, I suppose.”

 

“It sure does…”

 

Nicole’s not sure she ever believed in fate before, but Purgatory has brought an increasing amount of unusual things to her life, and this is just one of many. Maybe she can believe in fate, after all.

 

There’s a lull in their conversation. It’s late now, approaching 11PM and they’ve been talking forever. Waverly meets Nicole’s eyes, and there’s something in them. This intensity that makes Nicole’s heart pick up. Waverly toys with Nicole’s fingers across the table.

 

“I’m getting pretty tired.”

 

“Yeah, we should probably think about getting a hotel,”

 

“I’m not sure it would be safe for me to stay by myself tonight, though.” Waverly pushes, and Nicole bites her lip to suppress her smile.

 

“Probably not.”

 

***

 

Waverly tries so hard to be gentle, but she’s never been particularly good at restraining herself. She kisses her frantically, only breaking apart to tear Nicole’s sweater over her head and fling it on the floor somewhere, then she’s back. She nips at her bottom lip, then pulls it between her own, sucking slowly, teasingly. Nicole’s knees are weak just thinking of what else Waverly’s mouth can do.

 

“Are you sure?” she stumbles in between the flurry of Waverly’s kisses, but Waverly seems pretty darn sure. She stops and looks Nicole in the eye with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I’m sure, baby.” she says, and so Nicole goes with it.

 

They tumble to the bed, and Nicole takes charge. In one fluid motion, she slides between Waverly’s open legs and presses their hips together as she steals her lips for another searing hot kiss. Waverly’s hands are at the back of her neck, her fingers toying with the short hair she finds there.

 

Nicole’s kisses are deep and languid, and her hands roam purposefully, like they can’t get enough. Waverly arches into Nicole’s open palms breathily, encouraging more, trying to give herself to Nicole as much as she physically can. But when Nicole doesn’t make the next move quickly enough, Waverly takes her by the hand and guides it down between them. Nicole takes the hint with a little smirk. She slips her fingers beneath denim, stroking a long, teasing stripe against Waverly’s underwear. She has to bite her lip to suppress her feeling of immense satisfaction when she finds the dampness already waiting for her between Waverly’s legs.

 

“Not in the mood to go slow?” she teases.

 

“Maybe later,” Waverly nods and pulls Nicole back in for a scorching kiss with her hands tangled in red hair. Nicole’s more purposeful with her touches then, and when Waverly moans into her mouth she takes it up a notch.

 

“Let’s…” She tugs at Waverly’s clothes greedily. She wants more, she wants to see her, to taste every inch of her. Waverly shimmies out of all restrictive fabrics save for her underwear, leaving that privilege to Nicole, and boy does Nicole feel privileged.

 

She presses hot kisses to the curve of Waverly’s breasts as she reaches around to unhook her bra, and when it falls away she moves back up to kiss Waverly’s lips while she fills her hands with everything she can get. Waverly’s rocking into her, hungry for more. Nicole’s hands are lighting fires on her body and every inch of her is straining for more of it.

 

Nicole is just torn because part of her wants to slide her hand between them, stroke her fingers in firm, steady circles, maybe even slide them into Waverly’s wanting pussy and rock against her while Waverly rolls her hips like _that._ But the other part of her wants to slither between her legs and taste her until her back is arching and her hand is tight in Nicole’s hair. In the end, Waverly makes the decision for her when she bites her lip and looks down between them in silent suggestion.

 

Who could refuse an invitation like that? She bites her lip, eyes alight with excitement and arousal as she slides down Waverly’s heated body, slick with a light sheen of sweat already. She presses a few chaste kisses along the way, lets her lips drag against the ridges of her ribs, flicks her tongue against the rise of her hip bone. And then she’s there, sliding off Waverly’s soaked underwear with a racing heart and a hungry mouth. Waverly spreads her legs eagerly.

 

Nicole swallows as her breath catches in her throat. Waverly is _wet._ She hasn’t even done anything yet, but Waverly slides one leg over Nicole’s shoulder in the most seductive way. Nicole’s fingertips glide along the outer length of her thigh, pressing kisses along the inside.

 

She doesn’t think she’s ever been as turned on as she is right now, but then Waverly slides her fingers through that red hair, tilting her head so they can make eye contact, and Nicole realises that, actually, _this_ is the most turned on she’s ever been. Waverly’s eyes are dark, her lips parted and her breath is coming shallowly between them. She doesn’t say anything, just watches with fiery eyes as Nicole dips down and slides her tongue in one, long, steady stripe, gathering abundant wetness until she reaches Waverly’s clit. Waverly exhales a long, shuddering sigh at the sensation and lets her head drop back.

 

Nicole is burning. She grips Waverly’s thighs and wraps her lips around the swollen clit, tugging it gently between her lips first, then with more pressure until she figures out _exactly_ how Waverly Earp likes it. When she finds that sweet spot, Waverly gasps out her name, and arches her hips up into Nicole’s mouth.

 

Nicole doesn’t know how much time passes with her head between Waverly’s legs, greedily, selfishly tasting and sucking and teasing with her tongue - but at some point, it becomes clear that Waverly’s wound tight and teetering on the edge. She just needs something more to get there. She clumsily grasps at Nicole’s jaw, tilting her head to make eye contact, and when Nicole looks up she’s all dazed, lips glistening and dark. Waverly nearly comes from that alone.

 

“Get up here,” she husks, and Nicole does, meeting her in a heated kiss. Waverly can taste herself on Nicole’s tongue when it slides against her own, and that’s entirely new for her. She feels dizzy, but the persistent throb between her thighs keeps her grounded. When Nicole drifts, dragging her tongue along the column of Waverly’s throat, she also dips her hand beneath them and without preamble, spreads the thick wetness she finds, coating her fingers and Waverly’s hot center.

 

Waverly bites her lip and brings her knee up to wrap her leg around Nicole’s hip, and their eyes meet. Nicole raises an eyebrow with a smirk, but Waverly raises her own right back, and murmurs “Well, come on, cowboy.” but she’s breathless and her need is just dripping from her words.

 

Nicole doesn’t reply, but kisses her slow, deep, dirty - _possessively_ , as she slides her fingers inside in one, long stroke. She feels Waverly’s thigh tense beside her, pulling her closer, digging into her ribs. She feels her walls flutter around the intrusion. She feels her fingertips dig into her arms. Waverly moans low and long into Nicole’s mouth. _This_ is what she needed.

 

“I’ve been imagining this,” Waverly admits as she nips at Nicole’s jaw, rocking her hips against her lover. “Your fingers, your kisses, your-” she cuts herself off with a soft moan when Nicole curls her fingers exactly right and grinds her palm against her swollen clit. She throws her head back and Nicole follows, tracking burning kisses along her exposed neck.

 

“Me too, baby,” she breathes back, speeding up, thrusting her fingers in long, steady strokes. “Kissing you,” she curls her fingers again, and Waverly’s lips part in another silent moan. “Tasting you,” she slides her tongue beneath Waverly’s top lip and feels her body start to tighten. Her hips start to lose their rhythm.

 

“Jesus, Nicole,” her eyes screw shut and she bites on her lip to quieten the sounds of her ecstasy, but it’s a fruitless effort. When she comes, she comes hard and loud, and she squeezes her legs around Nicole, encouraging her to fuck her deeper, harder, just- just _more._ And Nicole obliges until Waverly comes undone in her hands with a cry.

 

She collapses back to the bed after a long moment of rolling with the waves of pleasure. She thinks _wow_ but absolutely doesn’t have it in her to speak intelligibly yet, and all that comes out is a soft groan of satisfaction.

 

Nicole bites her lip, watching Waverly in this post-orgasmic haze, all rosy and boneless, dark-eyed and soft.

 

Slowly, she starts to float back into normality. Her fingers, gentle and not quite back to life yet, come up to Nicole’s face where she traces the shape of her bottom lip with her thumb, watching the motion as she makes it. Nicole has these big, gooey heart eyes for her, looking at her like she’s the only person in the world, and Waverly, in her foggy mind, wanders off into what it would be like to do this all the time. Without the kidnapping bit. But to have those eyes on her like that, those fingers intertwined with her own, those little kisses Nicole drops to the top of her head when they’re walking...

 

“I’d like to be your girlfriend, you know,” she spills, and then blinks in alarm when her hazy mind realises she’s speaking without thinking _again_. She brings her hand from Nicole’s lips to her own mouth as if she could put the words back. Her filter’s just not quite there yet. In fact, it never seems to be working around Nicole. But as it happens, Nicole visibly melts at her words, and Waverly starts to feel brave again. She wets her lips, only a little bit nervous. “Do you- um. Do you think you’d wanna be my girlfriend?”

 

Nicole has this soppy lopsided grin. She takes Waverly by the hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “So much.” she murmurs against Waverly - her _girlfriend’s_ hand, and Waverly’s all rosy cheeks and moon-eyed smiles.

 

“Then…” she gently positions herself over Nicole’s hips, still denim-clad. She’s determined _not_ to hurt her this time. “Let me make my _girlfriend_ feel just as amazing as I did,”

 

Nicole bites her lip as her heart starts to pick up all over again. Waverly braces herself above her, kissing her slowly, softly, careful not to lean her weight into Nicole’s aching body. The lines of her ribs looks like the Italian lavender fields in bloom, all shades of purple and violet.

 

Nicole winces when Waverly’s fingers trail from her breasts, down to her abdomen. “My poor baby,” she murmurs, dropping featherlight kisses across the bruised flesh, drifting closer to the ridge of her belt. She can smell leather and vanilla and her heart tumbles in her chest, excitement building like static under her fingertips. She bites her lip again and watches as Nicole’s chest rises and falls with her shallow, rapid breaths.

 

Her fingers make lazy work of Nicole’s belt, taking her sweet time. Nicole can only swallow down her excitement and watch those deft fingers work, then onto her button, then, slowly, her zipper. The sound seems to echo around the room, followed by a shallow exhale from Nicole. Waverly’s good at this - the build up, the anticipation. Nicole’s skin is on fire.

 

Her fingers curl into the edges of the denim firmly, and then she pulls, and Nicole shifts until she’s nude and waiting with fingers trembling with excitement and her eyes blown out from the red hot lust coursing through her.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” Waverly murmurs against the inside of Nicole’s knee, but it’s lost in the thick air between them, and Nicole doesn’t hear. She balls her fingers into the sheets of their big hotel bed and bites her lip to hold back her impatience.

 

“Waves,” she breathes when Waverly’s lips start drifting to the inside of her thighs, nudging them open insistently until she’s face to face with how much Nicole really wants her. Waverly inhales deeply, arousal spiking once again.

 

“Yeah, baby?” she hums in response, but she’s completely not listening. Nicole can’t even manage a reply, especially when Waverly’s sporadic kisses close in on where she really wants them.

 

Her fingertips glide through her slick center, spreading the wetness around until she can’t wait any longer, and she ducks her head to taste her. The sound Nicole makes is soft and sexy and everything Waverly never knew she needed to hear. She moans against Nicole in turn, with her hands exploring her body as gently as humanly possible whilst still greedily learning every line, every rise, every fall, every dip, every curve.

 

Nicole is on the edge in moments, and Waverly holds out until her thighs are trembling and her fingers are lacing through waves of thick brown hair, and when she thinks Nicole is enough of a quivering mess, she slides her fingers in and watches her fall into oblivion.

 

***

 

Waverly wakes the next day with a delicious ache in her muscles. She’s enveloped in the arms of- well, of her _girlfriend,_ she supposes, in this big, beautiful bed, in this airy London suite. She shifts carefully, knowing that Nicole will still be aching in a far less pleasurable way. But Nicole’s already awake.

 

“Hey, you,” Waverly whispers. Nicole can hardly believe she’s actually in this bed, with this girl. This utter _goddess_. And it all started from an accidental phone call. She can’t believe she’s in this perfect bubble, and yet, she has to leave it.

 

“Hey, baby,” Nicole replies softly. Waverly picks up on the sadness in her immediately.

 

“You have to go today,” she remembers, and her heart drops suddenly. Nicole sighs in response.

 

“I do.” She toys with Waverly’s fingers, a pout playing across her lips. “I don’t want to leave you,”

 

A silence stretches between them for a moment. Waverly doesn’t want her to leave either. She doesn’t want to only speak to her over the phone when she can hear her voice right here in this bed. She doesn’t want to just look at pictures of her, when she can see her, touch her, kiss her, right here.

 

“Take me with you,” she blurts. Nicole’s brow dips.

 

“What about-” she doesn’t get to finish her thought because Waverly’s speaking again.

 

“I really think I’ve had enough excitement for one lifetime, you know? And… well,” she licks her lips and looks at Nicole earnestly. “I don’t want to miss you. I want to do _this_ again, and I want to fall asleep with you when I can actually cuddle you back, you know? When you’re not the colour of a blueberry.” she gestures at Nicole’s exposed upper half. Nicole smiles, but she’s apprehensive. She doesn’t want to be the reason Waverly doesn’t experience all that she needs and wants to in life.

 

“Baby, this is a big decision, and…” she pulls her in. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think it’s the right one.”

 

She adores Waverly. God, she really does. But she knows they’re only at the beginning of this, and sure, they’ve been through more than most people have after knowing each other for a few weeks, but she really doesn’t have the right to storm into her life and start wreaking havoc on her plans. She’d rather see Waverly carry on, flourish. She’d wait. She’d keep calling, she’d keep texting, she’d keep looking out for things to tell Waverly about when her phone rings.

 

***

 

Nicole learns a new thing that day. You can’t stop Waverly Earp from doing something once she’s set her mind to it. That’s how she finds herself back in Purgatory a day later with Waverly by her side, and the infamous Wynonna Earp across the table from her.

 

“This is Nicole. My girlfriend.” she introduces with rosy cheeks and smiley eyes. Nicole goes to shake this woman’s hand, but she just stares at her.

 

“ _You_ saved her?” she asks with doubt written all over her expression. Nicole isn’t sure why. She leans in to Waverly with a confused grimace and whispers. Loudly. “But she’s wearing a nerd sweater,” Nicole looks down at herself and then to Wynonna, who is in leather and pulled up on a motorcycle. Okay. She can see her point. But badasses can enjoy soft fabrics as well, you know? Besides, it’s chilly in Purgatory in the evenings.

 

_“Wynonna.”_ Waverly warns.

 

“Okay fine. It’s nice to meet you.” she shakes her hand. “Thanks for saving my sister before you started banging her.”

 

Nicole tilts her head with a fixed smile. “...Nice to meet you too,” She shakes her hand back. Wynonna is… she sure is something.

 

**One Year Later**

 

Nicole stretches out in her bed, one hand already buried in an explosion of orange purring loudly beside her. Her other arm is dead beneath the weight of her sleeping girlfriend.

 

They haven’t quite been together a year yet, but almost. It’s been exactly a year since Nicole first answered her phone to Waverly, all grouchy and sleepy on that Sunday morning. This morning, she feels anything but grouchy.

 

Waverly sighs in her sleep and scooches back into Nicole’s side.

 

“Sorry, CJ,” she whispers as she nudges the cat away so she can turn around and spoon her girlfriend. The cat looks indignant as she struts off, and Nicole makes a mental note to give her a treat as an apology, even though she’s getting so big that she really shouldn’t be having any extra treats. Waverly’s been spoiling her over the last year, but even more so since she moved in last month. There are times Nicole wakes up to feed CJ only to find that Waverly’s already been up, giving her things she shouldn’t. She often sneaks milk into her bowl, and on one occasion around Christmas, she put _cookies_ next to the milk. Now, when CJ moves it’s more of a waddle, and when she jumps from a high surface there’s an audible thump when she lands. But it’s no wonder she likes Waverly more.

 

“Did you kick the cat out of bed?” Waverly mumbles blearily. Nicole _mhm_ s her, dropping a light good morning kiss to her shoulder. “You’re such a meanie.” she murmurs, reaching back to run her fingers through Nicole’s bedhead.

 

“Aw, no I’m not. I just wanted you to myself.” she nuzzles her neck and Waverly’s lips pull into a lazy half-smile.

 

“You’re such a cheeseball,”

 

“You love it,”

 

Ugh, she does. She really does. She loves every soppy line she feeds her, she loves every gooey look she sends her way, she loves… she just loves _her._ And she tells her all the time.

 

“Happy anniversary, by the way.” Nicole’s pretty proud of herself for remembering. Waverly turns in her arms, nose-to-nose now, lips mere millimeters apart. Nicole can feel the air shift between them as Waverly bites her bottom lip. Waverly opens her mouth to say something-

 

Then the door bursts open. Nicole nearly jumps out of her skin. She’s not used to _this_ yet. This has only been a thing since Waves moved in.

 

“Morning, CJ. Hey Waves. Haught.” Wynonna nods at them all and stands right there in the doorway of Nicole and Waverly’s bedroom.

 

Since Nicole and Waverly had been back in Purgatory, Nicole quickly learned that Wynonna isn’t a fan of knocking, or, you know, not walking right into other people’s homes whenever she feels like it. So Nicole makes sure she’s always decent when she goes to sleep. She’s been caught out one too many times already.

 

“Hi, Wynonna,” she smiles wryly, moving up for Wynonna to sit on the edge of the bed, as she is wont to do. Wynonna plonks down beside them.

 

“Wynonna, it’s actually…” Waverly gives her a pointed look but Wynonna doesn’t catch on. “You know, I _told you._ ” Wynonna just stares at her blankly. “ _Our anniversary._ ”

 

“Oh, right, yeah, that. Happy anniversary. Anyway, got a new demon thing going on. Come on, get dressed, let’s go to work.” she ruffles Haught’s already-messy hair with a smirk and Nicole shoves her off the bed.

 

It’s a good job Nicole loves the Earp girls. Even her mostly-terrible future sister-in-law.

 

It’s not the best way to start the day, least of all the anniversary they were planning to celebrate - but when Waverly sneaks into the shower with her, while Wynonna’s pottering in the kitchen downstairs making them all coffee, Nicole thinks fate has done her a real solid. She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s done! Thank you to everyone who came along for the ride! I was ultra nervous to post this fic because it’s so far out of my comfort zone - I don’t even watch action movies, ya know? But Haught sure is something when she’s all pewpew, so I had to write it. 
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone who left kind and encouraging comments, and to those of you who messaged me on twitter or recommended this cheesefest - I literally love you. Reading your responses to this weird little fic has been the highlight of my day everyday for the last week (or four days or whatever - I’m bad at maths!)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the ride. Feel free to send me prompts or just be my buddy on twitter. twitter.com/carpevenus Love you guys!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Carry on or delete in shame and stick to writing smut?


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